ence, but merely due to the working of what would seem to be a law of the artistic temperament: that to turn a muse into a wife, however long and faithfully

was finished, he came down the wood impatient to read it to Bea

North, with

ho in the y

elieve myst

e ennui of

o secret le

withered ol

y that she

uated char

secret, Sphin

the colour

ent and al

smoke whose

d from the

ice or ho

g wreaths of

mounting

meaning of

e fairy pa

grave fantas

iss to wan

m golden sta

out its cunn

ld with gol

alace buil

of your mout

ere many me

t stern, Love

shaped its

sweets, whose

honey from

t of the sw

and little ch

earnt its he

w, God's d

reaks and bre

a music al

that withi

ips, within

art that ma

that hath m

secret, Sphin

word that

d made you r

x that bade

face grew sadder and sadder. W

l, Antony-but it is

Beatrice? Who else c

e that you have se

are you g

ill show. Perhaps you don't know it you

s own origin. Has your image blue

u filled in from me. But the inspiration,

o look at it, as I love to look at

l soon love it for its own sak

You are too ridi

, dear? I sometimes think you h

she had been talking he was conscious that the idea she had

mage of her,-surely this would be to ascend into the region of

lready growing within him; for when Beatrice had spoken of his loving an image, it was no abstract passion he had conceived, but some fanciful variation of earthl

heart! If only one could achieve t

the image. He felt that in some way she would be chang